After the gathering ended and everyone dispersed, Xu Lingyi asked Shiyiniang, who sat at her dressing table removing her makeup, “Still angry?”

Shiyiniang said nothing.

She gracefully pinned her hair up in a bun. “My Lord should retire first. I’m going to look in on Jin Ge’er.” With that, she walked straight out.

Xu Lingyi looked at his wife’s retreating figure and rubbed his head.

Jin Ge’er was still awake. A gourd-shaped ram’s horn palace lantern was lit in the room. He had changed into a white Songjiang triple-weave inner robe and was busy sorting through things with his personal maid.

“…these are just the ordinary gold, silver, and jewelry and jade,” he instructed Hongwen, “you and the others go through the inventory and pack them up with a sealed tag. But these here I collected myself — they all need to go on the curio shelf when the time comes.”

“But — but these are a pair of boots!” A’jin protested in bafflement, turning the awkward black leather knee-high boots over and over, muttering quietly, “And the workmanship is so crude. Not only is there no gold or jade inlay — there isn’t even a single embroidered pattern… Even the boots the small attendants in our outer courtyard wear are more refined than these.”

“What do you know!” Jin Ge’er strode forward and snatched the boots, clutching them to his chest. “These are worn by the frontier peoples beyond the Pass. You can’t find anything like them in Yanjing.” He held them up. “Look at this upper part — it’s not sheep or dog leather. It’s yak hide. And look at this lining — sheep’s wool. Dense and thick.”

A’jin had served in Jin Ge’er’s rooms since she was small, and he was not a domineering child. Without grown-ups present, the two of them spoke fairly freely.

“Better than mink fur, you’d say?” she retorted, unconvinced.

Hupo, who was standing quietly with Shiyiniang at the doorway watching the inner chamber, heard this and took two steps forward to reprimand her — but Shiyiniang had already made a “be quiet” gesture.

Hupo looked over at Shiyiniang.

The dim amber light of the hall fell on the hem of Shiyiniang’s pleated skirt — dark green with embroidered wisteria-colored jade hairpin flowers — while her face was absorbed into the shadow beyond the light. But her eyes, a pair of them, glittered with brightness.

Something in Hupo’s heart lurched. She felt as if ten thousand words had frozen into ice inside her — she dared not make a sound.

Jin Ge’er rummaged through a tall cabinet and produced a black mink vest.

“Put your hand against the fur and see — which is warmer, my boots or this mink fur?”

A’jin really did stretch her hand out to try.

Jin Ge’er looked at her with a triumphant grin. “Well?”

“The mink fur is warmer, of course!” A’jin said.

Jin Ge’er’s face fell. “I give up talking to you!”

A’jin sniggered.

Hongwen, who had been bent over helping Jin Ge’er sort through a jumble of small odds and ends, lifted her head.

“Sixth Young Master,” she said, also feeling a little awkward about it, “those boots are so large — you won’t be needing them for a while. If they sit on the curio shelf, they’ll collect dust. Wouldn’t it be better to put them away for now, and bring them out to show when relatives and friends visit during the New Year? Then you could tell them all about your time at Jiayuguan.”

“I’m not showing off,” Jin Ge’er said, dismissive, yet he paused to think for a moment, then suddenly handed the boots to Hongwen. “But you do make sense. Put them away for me.” Then he spoke to her seriously: “Mind you keep them properly. Don’t let moths get at the wool.”

Hongwen smiled and answered “yes,” wrapping them in a piece of red silk. “Shall I put them in the camphorwood cabinet?”

“And make a note in the inventory,” Jin Ge’er added, thinking it over. “When I’m grown I plan to wear them back beyond the Pass.”

“Do you like the northwest that much?” Shiyiniang’s soft voice suddenly sounded in the room. Jin Ge’er and his two maids startled to find Shiyiniang and Hupo standing at the doorway.

“Mother!” Jin Ge’er jumped off the kang in delight. “It’s so late — why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“I came to look in on you.” Shiyiniang smiled and stepped inside.

Hongwen and A’jin hurried to light more candles.

The room brightened.

Shiyiniang’s smile was warm, her expression gentle.

Jin Ge’er pulled his mother to sit at the edge of the kang, then took a teacup from a young maid and offered it to Shiyiniang with both hands.

Shiyiniang looked only at Jin Ge’er, and asked again: “Do you like the northwest that much?”

“Yes!” Jin Ge’er nodded, laughing as he sat down beside his mother. “You can ride horses there, shoot arrows, hunt, fly hawks, sing songs — and there’s a sky as blue as anything, grass as green as anything, and little white woolly sheep…”

“I can’t see what’s so wonderful about that,” Shiyiniang said, ruffling her son’s head with feeling. “You can ride horses and shoot arrows and sing songs right at home. Is the sky here black? Is our grass red?”

“It’s not the same!” Jin Ge’er laughed. “The northwest is endless golden rolling hills. When you gallop across them, you feel how small a person is, and how vast the heavens and earth. You can run in any direction you like. Here in Yanjing, doing two laps around the riding track is considered something — don’t even think about galloping down the street. In the northwest, you pull your bow taut, the arrow whistles away — whether you hit or miss, there’s a feeling to it. At home, you have to be careful to aim at the target, and if the arrow goes even slightly off, your heart seizes — afraid you’ll hit a maid or a servant or break a piece of porcelain.” He waved his hand with an utterly bored expression. “That time Father took me hunting — what was there? Roe deer and badgers, all of them bred and kept. The guards would drive them up into the hills, and they’d just lumber along, dull and stupid, while we shot at them…” He was speaking when something seemed to come to mind, and his eyes lit up. He called out “Mother!” with a lowered, conspiratorial voice full of mystery. “That time we went to Jiayuguan, the garrison commander there especially took us out hunting. Not like our kind here — we rode out onto the grassland on horseback, first had to find a water source, and the scouts would crouch at the waterside reading the tracks: figuring out what animals had been there, how many, and when they came to drink. Then everyone would discuss the hunting strategy. So interesting.” His smile deepened and brightened. “Mother, the grass out there is nothing like the sparse tufts growing under the flower trees or along the paths in our back garden. It grows in one great expanse after another, up to my shoulders. Looking out from horseback, there’s no end to it in sight. When the wind comes, it moves like waves, rolling one after another, and you can see white flocks of sheep grazing in it. So beautiful!”

Shiyiniang looked at her son’s eager, longing eyes, tousled his hair, and smiled. “That’s because you’ve been to so few places.”

Jin Ge’er stared at his mother, slightly surprised.

“You haven’t been to the south of the Yangtze River yet, have you?” Shiyiniang said. “Jiangnan is wonderful too. Its produce is so abundant — the inner robe you’re wearing, the water eight delicacies we eat in summer, the mountain eight delicacies in winter, the Hu inkbrushes you write with, the Zisha teapots for drinking tea, the Hunan concubine bamboo used for door curtains, the red carved lacquer boxes, even the false hairpieces the older women wear — all come from Jiangnan. And there’s the Jinhua wine, the Prince Teng Pavilion, the Maoming Academy…”

“I know, I know!” Jin Ge’er suddenly interrupted her. “Jiangnan also has the Dragon Spring swords!”

Shiyiniang was taken aback.

“Uncle Fan’s study has a Dragon Spring sword hanging in it. Uncle Fan said the Emperor gave it to him, sharp enough to cut mud like clay. He even let me try it.” He spoke, then tugged at Shiyiniang’s sleeve. “Mother, will you tell Father — when I’m bigger, can I buy a Dragon Spring sword? And,” he added, “I’ll wear it when I go to the northwest, and for sure a lot of people will be jealous.”

She had gone on at such length, and all he had gotten out of it was an idea for acquiring a Dragon Spring sword to take with him to the northwest.

“So you don’t want to go to Jiangnan to ride a small river boat, eat crabs, visit the Putuo Temple?” Shiyiniang asked him gently. “Don’t you want to see Jingxi Academy, where your Second Brother once studied and where your Fourth Sister-in-law grew up?”

“The river boats and crabs I can do without,” Jin Ge’er laughed. “Those little boats are so small — a few rocks and they look ready to tip over. Nothing as steady as a three-story official vessel. And crabs — we eat those every year, nothing special. But the Putuo Temple, that I genuinely want to see. I’ve heard people say Putuo Mountain is out at sea, and the temples there are built of gold. When the sun rises, they’re gleaming and bright — and from the shore they look like a celestial realm, a place for immortals. I don’t quite believe it. They say all under heaven is the Emperor’s land — and Yanjing is the imperial capital, yet there are no golden temples here. Can that Putuo Mountain be finer than the imperial capital? And the Jingxi Academy — I’d want to go there too.” A glint of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Mother, if Second Brother suddenly saw me, would he be very happy?”

He wanted to go to Putuo Mountain to find out whether the legends were true; he wanted to visit the Jingxi Academy to see the surprised look on Xu Siyu’s face.

Shiyiniang let out a quiet sigh and pulled her son tightly into her arms. “It’s late — go to sleep early. All of this can wait until tomorrow. The move isn’t until the sixth month.”

Jin Ge’er nodded, smiling. “Mother, I’m not sorting through things just because of the move. I wanted to take some of these things out and play with them.”

He was sincere, wasn’t he.

Shiyiniang gently released her son. “I know — now go to sleep.”

Jin Ge’er smiled and climbed into bed, pulling at her sleeve. “Mother, tell me a story! You haven’t told me a story in a long time.” He wheedled.

Shiyiniang’s heart stirred. “You weren’t home, so I couldn’t tell you stories.”

Jin Ge’er grinned cheerfully. “I go out to play for a few days and come back. And then Mother can see me again.”

Shiyiniang touched her son’s cheek. “What story would you like?”

“Tell me the story of the Champion Marquis!” Jin Ge’er answered without a moment’s hesitation.

The Champion Marquis — that was Huo Qubing.

“Very well!” Shiyiniang nestled with her son against the large headrest pillow and said softly, “Once there was a man named Huo Qubing…”

Xu Lingyi had waited a long time in the room but Shiyiniang had not come back.

Surely she wouldn’t refuse even to see him?

At that thought, he let out a long, heavy sigh, lifted the curtain, and stepped out of the inner chamber.

Outside, the moon was bright and the stars few. A fragrance of jade hairpin flowers drifted through the air.

Shiyiniang was resting her elbow on the beauty’s couch, gazing absently at the large red lantern swaying under the eaves of the west wing.

The crimson lamplight fell on her smooth, flawless face — still and beautiful.

“It’s so late — why haven’t you gone back inside?” Xu Lingyi took off his outer robe and draped it over her shoulders. “The night air still carries a chill. Mind you don’t catch cold.”

Shiyiniang turned to look at him, her dark eyes calm as still water. “Can Jin Ge’er go to Jiangnan with my Elder Brother?”

—